


Agent Carter Meets Hogwarts

by poodlepants



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Chaptered, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poodlepants/pseuds/poodlepants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick look at Peggy Carter's adventures at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Your Heart Desires

**Author's Note:**

> I hammered this out really quickly because the idea has been bouncing around in my brain for a bit and I wanted to set it free. Just a quick drabble that I pulled together on the spur of the moment.

Peggy Carter wasn’t surprised there was a school for witches and wizards hiding in plain sight. After everything she’d seen since she started SHIELD, this was positively tame. That didn’t mean that SHIELD could just let it go, though. So here they were, wandering the halls of Hogwarts and taking detailed notes on what they saw. The entire thing had been arranged by the Ministry of Magic once they realized SHIELD wasn’t going to back down. They had worked out a sort of exchange in the end. SHIELD would be allowed to explore Hogwarts and would be kept abreast of the goings on that might affect the “muggle” world, and SHIELD would help them maintain their secrecy.

It seemed like a good partnership for both of them. There were definitely benefits to having experts on magic in their corner. Both parties had agreed that they would not fight each other’s battles, but that did not mean they could not use the wizarding community as a resource from time to time.

But first they would have to find their way out of the school. Navigating through the halls was like walking through a labyrinth. It was a wonder the children were able to get around the school with the way the staircases moved and doors appeared out of nowhere. She frowned. There was a door just to the left of her that had not been there when she first walked this hall, she’d counted. While it generally wasn’t the best idea to open randomly appearing doors, she couldn’t help herself. Something was drawing her to this door, and she didn’t feel like she’d be able to leave without knowing what was behind it. One hand settled on the hilt of her gun while the other turned the doorknob. The door creaked open on rusty hinges, and it kicked a cloud of dust up from the floor. Nothing shrieked or jumped out at her. In fact, the room was eerily still. The stillness was thick in the air, making it feel like she was moving through a spider web as she walked. She almost would have preferred something jumping out at her. At least then she could deal with it and move on.

Dust motes danced in the sunlight that filtered through a small window. The stillness of the room seemed to stick to them as well, as they moved as though they were in slow motion. Nothing had set her quite so on edge as the stillness of this room did. There was very little in it in the way of furnishings. There was a turned over chair, an end table with a broken leg, an overstuffed armchair with a spring poking through the cushion, and something under a sheet. It was tall, but slim. When she pulled the sheet off, she found herself facing a mirror.

The frame was rather ornate, and there were words engraved into the arch at the top. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ She frowned. What did that mean? It didn’t resemble any language she knew. Her brow furrowed as she studied the words. She was so wrapped up in trying to decipher what the frame said that she didn’t notice the figure in the mirror. When she did pull her attention away from the lettering to see what was before her, she covered her mouth to muffle her cry. Her gun was forgotten, the stillness was forgotten, there was nothing but what was smiling back at her from within the mirror.

Her eyes filled with tears and she took a few steps backward, shaking her head in silent disbelief. “It can’t be,” she breathed, rubbing at her eyes, forcing tears to roll down her cheeks as she applied as much pressure as she could, convinced her mind was playing tricks on her, and that if she just cleared her vision things would be normal.

They weren’t. In fact, now the figure was frowning, looking almost as distressed as she felt. Her eyes whipped around the room in a hurried assessment, looking for anything or anyone that could be causing her to see what she was seeing, but no one was there. It was just her and the mirror. A choked sob escaped as she took a step forward, finally meeting the blue eyes that stared out at her, looking quite concerned.

“Steve?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. His expression was pained as he nodded. She reached out towards the mirror, hesitant, but unable to stop herself from pressing her palm against the cold glass. Steve mirrored her action. Her heart clenched so tightly she was sure it was going to stop. It was like the picture she kept on her vanity had come to life and was now interacting with her. Very few people knew Steve. They all knew Steve Rogers, Captain America, but they didn’t know Steve, not the Steve she knew. Not the Steve that was staring back at her from within the mirror.

He was a slight figure, short and slim. While he hardly resembled the figure on posters and in legend, this was him. This was her Captain America, the man who was willing to risk everything if it meant he would get a chance to serve his country. Her cheeks were wet as the tears flowed freely now. She leaned forward, closing her eyes as her forehead joined her hand in resting against the cold glass. “Oh Steve,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking slightly as she cried silently. “I miss you so, darling.”

Somehow it felt as though there was an arm around her waist, and soft words of comfort were being murmured into her ear. The once cool glass now felt warm beneath her skin. It was almost like she was in his arms again.

“Director Carter.”

She jumped back from the mirror, wiping at her eyes and praying there weren’t streaks of mascara running down her cheeks when she turned to face the headmaster of the school. She could see a knowing smile behind the white beard that somewhat obscured his features. He held out a hand for her.

“I do believe your team is searching for you, quite convinced you’ve fallen victim to the halls of Hogwarts,” he said lightly, as if he hadn’t noticed she’d been standing there, hugging a mirror as tears fell from her eyes. He simply held out a handkerchief for her. She accepted it with quiet appreciation, dabbing at her eyes as she turned to look back one more time. There in the mirror she saw Steve smiling sadly at her as they once again had to say goodbye. The pain of it made her feel as though she could hardly breathe.

“Come, Director, or I feel I shall have your entire tactical team climbing the walls of the school, and it would be quite impossible to guarantee they would all return to you. Peeves has a rather different sense of humor, you see.”

She didn’t see, but she nodded anyways. He was telling her it was time to go. He was right. As hard as it was, and how much it hurt, it was time to go. Director Carter still had a life to live, and she could not do that attached to a mirror.

 _“Goodbye, my darling,”_ she thought as the door clicked shut behind her. It was impossible, but she could have sworn she heard a reply. _“I’ll never leave my best girl. She still owes me a dance after all.”_

She would hold those words close to her heart for the rest of her days.


	2. We Need to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy isn't as done with Hogwarts as she thought.

Time passed, as it was wont to do. One season melted into another, villains came and went, life marched onwards. Peggy, however, felt stuck. Ever since she visited the wizarding school and encountered the mirror, a part of her was stuck in that moment. Steve’s face haunted her in a way Captain America’s never had. She lived surrounded by the myth of Captain America, and all the memorabilia that went with it. That didn’t bother her. It stung, naturally, but it was a sting she could deal with. She appreciated that pain, as it kept her from sinking into the pit of grief that still lurked at the edge of her emotions. It reminded her she was on a mission to make sure that the work Steve had accomplished, and the values he upheld, were kept alive and present. Part of her drive was her need to be the kind of person she told herself she could be.

She didn’t share that with people, though, as she did not want anyone to use that against her. She couldn’t change the fact that her relationship with Steve was common knowledge, but only a few people knew how much she valued what she saw and learned from him. Howard knew, of course, because Howard knew everything she’d rather he didn’t. Of course, she’d yelled at him about this very thing once, but he was supposed to have forgotten it and let it go. That wasn’t Howard, though. She tried to find it in her to mind and be cross about it, but she was never able to find it in her to be cross with Howard for very long. They had their own special sort of trust that was hard to explain. If asked, she’d say she didn’t trust Howard Stark, which was true. She didn’t have that sort of trust in Howard. She did, however, trust him. It was something of an instinct, almost. She knew Howard, and she knew what he was and was not capable of. They understood one another, and with that understanding came a form of trust that words couldn’t describe, as it hardly fit the definition of what anyone would consider trust. She had learned not to question it long ago, as trying to muddle through it got her nowhere.

Jarvis knew, because much like Howard, Jarvis understood her. Jarvis had something that Howard didn’t, though, and that was her genuine trust. She had let Jarvis see parts of her that she shared with no one else, but she knew that she could count on him to protect that. Jarvis had loyalties to Howard, but those loyalties did not dictate his entire life. Jarvis had been there when she needed him to be, and because of that, Jarvis had been one of the first people she had let her walls down for. Jarvis understood what it felt like to love someone so much you’d be willing to risk everything you had and everything you were to hold onto it. Jarvis and his wife Anna filled a role that she thought she had long outgrown; a caretaker.

Jarvis wasn’t one for much outward fussing, but he was always there with ice, bandages, tea, and biscuits when she needed them. She didn’t even have to ask, they were always there the moment she arrived. Anna would fuss. It had made her uncomfortable at first, no one had fussed over her in quite some time. It wasn’t long before she’d grown used to it. Anna was persistent and Peggy just couldn’t manage to tell her no. She even liked it sometimes. It was nice to let someone else handle things for a few moments, allowing her to unwind.

Angie knew, of course. As her appointed best friend, Angie had instructed her that it was part of the best friend rules to tell each other everything. Peggy told her almost everything. It had been hard for her at first, but Angie was patient. Knowing what Peggy did for a living really helped Angie understand what she needed to do to help Peggy. She was so used to dealing with agents, soldiers, and spies that Peggy had forgotten that it was nice to be able to talk to someone about something as simple as the latest movie in the theaters. She did not inform Angie of what she was doing at S.H.I.E.L.D, though, as she did not want to see Angie get hurt. Angie was always curious, as she was about most things in life, but Peggy held firm. Knowing what Peggy did was enough to put Angie in harm’s way, she was not about to add to it.

Peggy glanced down at the notepad she had been writing on. All she had written on it was _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. She’d spent weeks trying to figure out what language that was, only to figure it out one morning when looking at the phrase from a different angle. _I show not your face but your heart’s desire_. Seemed rather cruel to her. Why would anyone want something that showed them what they wanted and possibly could not have? Why had she been drawn to it? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

She sank back into the leather of her desk chair, cup of tea in hand, when her quiet moment of reflection was interrupted by cries of surprise and a giant beast of an owl landing on her desk. She sat up, sputtering around the sip of tea that burned the back of her throat to try and shoo the big bird away, but it didn’t seem to take the hint. She glared at it, setting her mug down. She stood up, ready to remove the creature herself if it was going to ignore her, but then she noticed something. There was an envelope beneath one of the bird’s massive feet. It had her name written across the front in tiny, lopsided scrawl.

She kept her eyes on the owl as she slowly pulled the envelope out from beneath the bird’s foot, ready to react should the bird protest, but it didn’t. Instead it watched her with what seemed like boredom. “Well, I’m sorry my presence doesn’t cause nearly as much excitement as yours does,” she told the bird sharply while she carefully opened the envelope. She pulled out a neatly folded letter that was written on thick parchment paper.

She pressed her lips together and gave the owl a sideways glance before she unfolded his offering. The owl was quickly forgotten when she saw cards fall out of the now fully opened letter. She quickly picked up the three small rectangles and spread them out on the desk. It didn’t seem possible, but she couldn’t deny what was right in front of her face. Each card had a picture of Captain America on it. She touched one of the cards as she studied it closely. She knew that jawline. She knew that smile. She even know those bright blue eyes staring up at her. The costume, however, was different.

She picked up one of the cards and turned it over, seeing if there was anything on the back that would help her understand what she was seeing. There was a long write up about an event, but she didn’t read it. She couldn’t get her eyes to focus on it. The date was already too much for her mind to process, she was afraid that if she read any further, she’d lose it completely. She picked up the other two cards and checked the dates on them as well, and they were still the same. All three of them said it was the year 2012, and all three of them showed an image of a very much alive Steve Rogers.

She quickly grabbed the piece of parchment that had come along with the cards to find an explanation, but there was none.

_“Director Carter,_

_I hope this letter reaches you without encountering bad weather. The water makes it terribly hard for the owls to reach their destinations due to the ink running. They do their best. I have dispatched my most reliable bird, Athena, to bring you this. I meant to include a lemon drop for you, but alas, it seems I’ve run out of them completely. What a pity, I do so enjoy a good lemon drop._

_We need to talk, Director Carter. I’m sure you know why by now. I will hopefully have more sweets available at the time of our meeting._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore”_


End file.
